


A door to familiar desolation

by PryingBlackbird



Series: Cultivate a space for the things that hurt you most [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet, Blumentrio, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Poly-Blumentrio, Torture, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Warning: Trent Ikithon, because of their backstory, will probably stray further from canon as the stream goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29704275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PryingBlackbird/pseuds/PryingBlackbird
Summary: Astrid and Eadwulf return to the Empire to deal with the consequences of their actions.This story picks up exactly where "I may be troubled but I am gracious in defeat" left off and I strongly suggest to read it first.
Relationships: Astrid/Eodwulf (Critical Role)
Series: Cultivate a space for the things that hurt you most [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179128
Comments: 26
Kudos: 23





	1. If I could change your mind

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't able to let the Blumentrio go after finishing the last story, they are still haunting me and so I sat down and continued writing about them. I'm not sure yet where this will go and how many chapters there will be. Oh and it's not beta read, I will come back one day to hammer out the kinks, but for now it is what it is. 
> 
> In the first chapter they finally get some alone time to talk about what happened, and how to move on from here. They hurt, but at least they have each other.  
> I experimented with fluctuating between their POVs organically, please let me know if that's too confusing. 
> 
> SPOILERS: For now there will only be spoilers for the backstory of the Blumentrio. I might move into spoilers for the current M9 arc later, but I don't know yet. If I do, I will warn you in advance. 
> 
> TW: Dealing with the aftermath of extensive torture. In later chapters probably Trent, do I need to say more? If you read my previous story you should have an idea what you are up for, if additional TWs apply in the future I will add them. 
> 
> The source for some of the descriptions of places and buildings is The Explorer's Guide to Wildemount. The title of the story comes from the song "Frika" by VNV Nation and the title of the first chapter is from the song "Chrome" also by VNV Nation. The latter one is especially fitting for our poor lost souls. 
> 
> That should be all for now. Enjoy!

She stares blankly at the spot where Bren disappeared as Eadwulf speaks the incantation. The room around them fades. When the vertigo wears off they are not back in Rexxentrum, as Astrid expected. Instead she feels a fresh ocean breeze tugging at her hair and blinks at the sight of glistening waves under a cloudless sky. Countless ships are docked at the harbor, their masts forming a small forest decorated with colorful sails and flags. The soundscape is almost overwhelming after the silence of their room, shouting, laughter, construction noise, the rattling of waggons and the pounding of hoofs. The air smells of salt, spices, manure and fried fish. 

“Port Damali?” she asks, confused. “Why have you…” “One night.” he interrupts her. “We will take one night to mourn and get our shit together. We will go back tomorrow, it really doesn’t matter now if it takes one day more after we’ve been gone for so long. And we still have to agree on our story.” He still has his arm around her shoulder, and she turns around to bury her face at his chest, trying to hide her tears. But he knows, he always knows. He gently strokes her head and holds her. She cries because the relief is overpowering. Relief that she has another day to collect herself before they have to go back and face the consequences of her escape and their absence, before she has to go back to face  _ him.  _

Another day to rebuild the facade. To mourn. To let go. 

“Okay.” she whispers into his shirt. “Thank you.” He kisses the crown of her head. “Let’s get you new clothes first,” he says. “I know you’re sick of looking like a stableboy.” That coaxes a little laugh out of her. He is right, the clothes they have provided her in the temple are plain and practical and far from her usual style. They have served her well when they were roaming the countryside together, but now in a big city she’s suddenly more aware of her appearance. She slowly gets out of his embrace, steps back and wipes at her eyes. “Let’s go.” she says. 

He takes her arm and they dive into the busy streets of Port Damali, asking around until they find the right shops. An hour later she wears fine dark clothes, high boots and a leather doublet not unlike Eadwulf’s. One of his stilettos dangles at her belt and her snake is wrapped around her upper arm, tasting the air with a flickering tongue. She feels a bit more like herself. Like her old self, before she died and came back. 

Their next stop is a small food stall down at the harbor, where they get an array of grilled seafood which they take with them to eat on a bench near the water. She lets the snake glide down from her arm and it curls up on a large stone that is warm from the sun. They eat in silence, watching the hustle and bustle of the shipping traffic. After a while she leans her head on his shoulder and they just sit there, out in the open in the sunlight, thoughts drifting. 

They spend their life in the folds of society, in the shadows and corners where nobody looks. They make sure the upstanding citizens of the Empire can sleep at night without fear. Most of them don’t know about the dark doings that build the foundation of their security, the sacrifices that are made everyday. And they probably wouldn’t want to either. In the public eye the Volstrucker do not exist, stories about them are only dark fairy tales. And here, away from the Empire they are not even that. The people around them don’t know about the blood on their hands, or the grim origins of their countless scars. About all the lives they took and the pain they caused, the suffering they endured in return. And they in turn will never know what it feels like to live a mundane life, to be unaware of the fathomless cruelty of the world they inhabit, to grow old on peace. 

Children are playing between the bollards, laughing and yelling in excitement as they chase the seagulls and each other without a concern in the world. Sometimes it’s good to remember what it’s all for, the solitude and isolation, the violence. It’s for the greater good. 

After their lunch Astrid sends her snake into her arcan hiding space and Eadwulf leads her to a nice inn in the Gilded Esplanade. The streets here are lined with adept artists and performers, markets lush with expensive wares and high-end imports from around the world. The spire-like skyport which Port Damali is famous for towers over the district like a grandiose lighthouse. The city is the only place in Exandria that welcomes skyships, although right now none are docked. Astrid knows it is always a big spectacle when one arrives, people flooding the streets and staring at the sky, pointing and laughing. Maybe one day she will be lucky enough to witness such an event herself. She only ever heard stories about it. 

The inn is called “Safe Haven” built several stories high and painted in a light blue that echoes the sky above. Five-leaved ivy is covering parts of the facade, some leaves already turning red, early signs of the coming autumn. The place looks welcoming and well kept. 

Eadwulf collects their key, he already sent a message yesterday to announce their arrival as it turns out. Their room is on the highest floor and it includes a balcony overlooking the harbor. There is a big comfortable bed and a large brass bathtub. She turns around to scold him for continuing to spend so much gold on her after all he did already, but he laughs right as she opens her mouth. “Come on. You know I don’t give a shit about money.” She gives him a playful punch in the shoulder and then draws him in for a kiss. “Okay. Thank you.” She yawns and looks longingly at the bed. They didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. “Let’s take a nap okay?” she asks. “Talk later?” “Alright.” 

When they wake up the sun is already low in the sky. They get up and order dinner which they eat on the balcony, watching the sunset over the ocean. It is beautiful and she realizes how many years she has not allowed herself time to just admire the world around her. But now, after they took the light and the sky away from her for several weeks she has a new found appreciation for being out in the open, being able to see the colors of the world and feel the wind on her face. Soon enough her work will overtake her life again, robbing her of moments like these, but now and here for a brief heartbeat there is something like peace. She smiles and reaches out to take his hand. They sit like that until the sun disappears into the ocean. 

Afterwards Eadwulf fills the bathtub with steaming water while Astrid lights all the candles in the room. It is getting dark outside rapidly now. He runs one hand through the water to test the temperature and gestures towards her. “Come, get in.”

She undresses, well aware of his eyes following her every movement, and climbs in, the hot water prickling on her skin. A moment later he gets rid of his own clothes and joins her. “Turn around.” he says and she obliges. He pulls her a bit closer and then begins to wash her hair, softly massaging her scalp. She groans softly, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on her skin that trickles all the way down her spine. 

It still hurts him to see all the fresh scars on her body. He has enough experience in this gruesome line of work that he recognizes the origin of most of them and it turns his stomach to have this visible reminder of what she went through. Here they burned here, and there they used acid, and a bit further down they used dull needles to… He shivers and tries to get the images out of his head. 

“How are you?” he asks to break the silence. “Dreams still bad?” She softly shakes her head. “I’m fine Wulf.” 

He softly kisses her shoulder. “I know when you are lying to me, always.”

She sighs. “Why do you ask if you already know the answer?” He gently kisses her neck. 

“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe you should…” 

“No!” her voice is strained. “And what would it change anyway?” Instead of a reply he gives her another kiss and then starts to massage her shoulders, enjoying the feeling of her skin under his hands. But his eyes drift towards her scars again, he cannot help it. Here they have ripped at her skin with metal hooks, and there they cut away bits of her skin with a fine blade… He grinds his teeth and closes his eyes, trying not to imagine her down there in the darkness. No wonder she has nightmares. 

“I can take the memories away, you know?” he offers softly. Her shoulders tense underneath his fingers as she sits up straight, suddenly breathing heavily. He curses himself in his head. “Aster I’m just trying to…” 

“Don’t!” she pushes his hands away and climbs out of the tub, hastily wraps herself in a towel and steps out onto the balcony, breathing in the cool night air. 

They still haven’t really talked about it. The days had bled into each other, and they enjoyed the company of each other and their old friend. And she had quickly changed the topic if someone tried to talk about Xhorhas and the Dungeon of Penance. And right now she still does not feel ready, although she knows she can’t hide anymore. Even if she does not talk to him, her master will demand answers and she won’t be able to deny him. It terrifies her. But at least outside in the wind she can breathe, without walls that are closing in around her. Here under the open sky she is not trapped and cornered. 

“I’m sorry, okay? Come back inside, you will get cold.” he sounds concerned, pleading. She hears his footsteps, bare feet against stone, as he steps up to the banister next to her, a towel wrapped around his waist. She turns around and looks at him. “Don’t pressure me about this okay? I knew what I was signing up for and I… I was careless and they got me. It happens. It’s over. I’m still alive thanks to you. Isn’t that enough? It will be hard enough to get back and...” her voice is trembling. 

He steps closer, slowly places a hand on her shoulder. There is a helpless expression in her eyes. “Have you thought about just… not going back?” she asks very quietly. His brows draw together in a frown “Our lives belong to the Empire.” he replies. “Dammit Wulf, that’s not the fucking point.” she huffs. He stares out onto the Lucidian ocean that stretches out to the horizon in front of them. “I’m afraid it is.” She shrugs his hand off her shoulder, takes a step back, there is a challenge in her eyes now. 

“Bren did it.” she says. “He left. Build a new life. It’s astonishing to see how much he has improved, right? These new people he is with, they seem to be good for him. Getting away from all that fucked up shit has been good for him. I think he is actually happy. Aren’t you jealous?” 

“Why are you saying things you don’t really mean Astrid?” he towers over her, still frowning. “You know quite well there is no space for us in this arrangement, in this new life of his. These people are self proclaimed heroes and bringers of peace. Our profession… I don’t think they would appreciate our presence, especially seeing how much influence we still have over Bren. For them he is Caleb Widogast. He made his choice when he ran away and threw away his name and we made our choice when we stayed. It’s too late for us to change our minds, it has been too late since the night our parents died and we were strong enough to stay sane and continue our training.” There is barely concealed pain in his voice, and anger. 

“So his reward for being weak and useless is a life of freedom while we are locked away and tortured and left to rot by the very people who own us?” she hisses. 

“You don’t mean that.” he repeats, not concealing his anger anymore. “You are just trying to provoke me to fight you so you don’t have to feel the pain for a little while. Not tonight Astrid, not after everything that happened.” 

For a moment she looks like she is going to snap at him but then her shoulders sag a little and she reaches out to touch his face. Her voice is very quiet when she speaks. “I am sorry Wulf. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” He shrugs. “You never do.” The words sting and she knows she deserves it. He takes her hand. “Come. Let’s talk inside, please. You are shaking.” She can’t deny that, as much as she’d like to insist on being fine. The nights have gotten cold. 

He leads her back into the room and makes her lie down in the bed under the covers, then uses his magic to warm the fabric. She rolls her eyes at him for being overprotective but he doesn’t care. He closes the balcony door and slips into bed next to her. She rolls onto her side, rests her head on her elbow and looks at him. 

“Okay, let’s talk about it then. What will we tell the old man?”

“I’m afraid there’s not much we can do to sugarcoat the fact that I went against the explicit orders of the assembly. And let’s not fool ourselves, he won’t be surprised in the least. But he will still want retaliation.” 

They try not to show Trent how much they mean to each other, keep a professional facade when they are out in the open, treating each other with a polite distance. But they know they can’t fool him. It was him who made sure they have nothing in the world but each other after all. 

She nods slowly, he is right. “What about Bren?” 

“I thought about that. Trent knows about his connections to the Dynasty, about his status as a hero there. About his connection to the Shadowhand. He also knows how close we once were. We can’t erase him from this story, but we might not want to tell him that he stuck around. You know… He might try to exploit our relationship with him to his advantage anyway. Pulling him back into our world now that the first step has been taken.”

“And we can’t let that happen. Right?” she gets up on one elbow, looking at him more intently, searching for something in his face. “Right”

Eadwulf is silent for a long time. “Wulf…” she says quietly. “I know what you are thinking. I know how much you have missed him but…” “But what Astrid? Why should I not think about it? We have made a pact long ago, we promised each other to stick together, face this fucked up life together. And then he left us. And now… Now he has these other people but what about us? You said it yourself that it is unfair just now.” 

“No.” she says softly and shakes her head. “It’s not his fault what happened to us. He has a new family now, he doesn’t need us, he is happy. It was nice to delve into the nostalgia for a bit, but ultimately it was a lie. He does not belong to us anymore. Bren is just an echo, Caleb is not the boy we went to school with. Fuck Wulf,  _ you  _ said so yourself just now. Why are we having this conversation? It would be selfish to pull him back into the darkness with us.”

“We are selfish people!” he snaps at her. “We are ruthless. They beat the compassion out of us thoroughly if you don’t remember. And we owe him nothing.”

“Now who’s trying to start a fight?” she asks irritated. 

His voice is very loud now and she almost flinches. Almost. “He fucking left us! We don’t… Fuck.” he rubs his forehead, closes his eyes. “It was stupid. It was stupid to let him back into our lifes like that, knowing that it won’t last. It was stupid. I was such an idiot to believe I could control myself around him. I don’t know if I…if I” his voice breaks, trails off. He sobs once and the sound almost breaks her heart. “Hey.” she whispers. “Wulf, it’s alright. I’m angry too, and hurt. But we have to let it go.” 

He looks up and places a finger on the scar where the stiletto has found its way into her heart, killing her. “I was afraid I would never see you again.” He hasn’t talked about it all the time they were at the temple. But he needs to say these words now before they return home or they will slowly eat him up from the inside until the pain tears him apart. “I was afraid I had lost you forever. And I didn’t know how to go on without you… I don’t think I could.” He is crying for real now, feeling the warm tears stream down his face. He lets them come. With her he is safe. 

“Oh…” she wraps her arms around him, tears in her own eyes. “It’s okay, I’m here now, you got me back. You saved me. Like you always do. And…” she begins to stroke his back, calming circles down his spine. “I know you’ve always been strong for me. But never think I have not seen your suffering. I just wasn’t strong enough to be there for you and I am sorry.” He wraps his arms around her, pulls her close. “Aster you are the strongest person I know.” “Just because I have you to hold on to.” She pulls him even closer.

He can’t remember the last time they talked so openly about their feelings. The vulnerability of the moment almost makes it hard to breathe. It is terrifying and wonderful. He buries his face at the nape of her neck, taking in her familiar scent. They hold each other for a long time. Eventually she touches his shoulder and slowly guides him to lay on his back. He follows her movement, enjoying the sensation of succumbing to her taking the lead. He is so worn out by all the responsibility he has carried ever since he was way too young for such a burden. The only times he can let go are with her, ever since Bren broke she was the only thing keeping him sane. And he knows it is mutual. No matter how much they hurt each other, their bond runs deeper than superficial fights and hurtful words that are an expression of how bad they are at dealing with their emotions. In moments like this it doesn’t matter. He takes a deep breath and looks at her, drinking in her sight. 

In the flickering candle light she looks like an apparition, an otherworldly being, fierce elegance in her movement and hunger in her eyes. 

“I love you Aster.” he whispers. 

“I love you Wulf.” she smiles. 

She climbs on top of him, her smile growing wider when his body reacts to her touch as she straddles him. He reaches out to hold on to her hips, ready to let the world fade away. 

“Look at me.” she demands. “Don’t turn away. I want to see your eyes.” he readily fulfills her demand. 

Neither of them gets any sleep that night. They fuck with a hunger that borders on desperation and then lie awake in the semi-darkness, limbs entangled, the room dimly illuminated by the full moon and the lights of the city. Just listening to each other's heartbeats. When the sun begins to rise they draw each other close, drinking in the moment while it lasts, knowing that in the morning they will have to go back home and face whatever is waiting for them there. 


	2. Stared down demons, came back breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid and Eadwulf report back to Trent Ikithon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Abuse. We all know Trent is his own category of awful and this chapter will explore his past and present abuse of Eadwulf and Astrid. It is not pretty. Apart from the psychological and physical abuse it also describes two people justifying to stay (for now) with their abuser, especially in the chapter that will follow after this one.   
> If this topic is triggering for you please take care of yourself and step away if you have to. 
> 
> The title of the chapter is from the song "We shall all be healed" by the Mountain Goats.

They teleport into the Shimmer Ward and go to his tower in the Candles straight away. There is no point in delaying the inevitable any longer. Even the amulets they wear will not be able to protect them forever. They walk in silence and with determination in their step. The dream they have been living in the last weeks is officially over and they are back in their cold reality. 

One of Master Ikithon’s servants lets them into the tower and leads them straight to his study, as if they are expected guests. They step through the double doors in unison, head held high.

Trent looks like he always does, cold grey eyes and slightly jaundiced skin, his thin grey hair falling to his shoulders. Clad in a white and gold robe, sitting behind his desk in a high-backed chair, fingertips resting against each other, regarding them with a cold curiosity that does not betray his feelings. 

They walk up to the desk, stop three steps in front of it and just stand there, hands behind their backs and posture straight, like they stood in front of him so many times before. He just looks at them for a while, taking his time to inspect their appearance, their faces, searching for signs of weakness. The waiting is one of the worst parts and he knows it, uses it to strain their resolve. 

And then, after what feels like minutes he finally begins to speak. 

“So my lost prodigies have finally decided to return home. What an auspicious day for all of us.” his lips curl into a smile but there is no warmth in his eyes. 

Neither Astrid nor Eadwulf respond. They wait for him to continue, unmoving and unflinching. 

“I can not deny I am impressed. None of our Volstrucker has ever managed to infiltrate the Kryn prison and lived to tell the tale. I wonder who helped you on your little rescue mission. And old friend perhaps?”

He leans forward a bit, eyes fixed on Eadwulf who does his best to keep a straight face. His voice gets even quieter, a dangerous sign.

“My admiration for your good work aside, I am also disappointed you went against direct orders, traveled into hostile territory and risked the fragile peace between our nations out of nothing more than personal… sentimentality.”

Eadwulf can’t hold back the words anymore and they come out almost as a growl. “You left her to die.” His fists are clenched behind his back and he stares directly into the pale eyes of his old teacher. “You left her to rot.” 

Trent’s lips twist downward in a mocking display of pretend sadness. “And do you not think that pains me? Do you not think I mourned the loss of potential, the loss of one of my best students? We all have to make sacrifices to protect our fellow citizens and you both have sworn to give your life for the Empire. She got careless and ended up captured so it was time to uphold that promise. Do you not think I tried to negotiate her freedom? Do what is in my power to get her back? But ultimately it was not my decision to make. How do you think this will reflect on me now? They will say I don’t have you under control. Or worse, that I sent you, ignoring the orders I myself received, risking the safety of our beloved Empire. After all I have done for you you chose to betray me.”

He never raises his voice and it usually makes everything worse. His anger is cold and calculated, ever simmering underneath the surface, never boiling over, faintly shining through the cracks of solicitous smiles and caring concern. 

When they were young and he punished them for being sloppy, for being cheeky, for being late, for being forgetful they always believed they deserved it. Now that they are older they know better, in theory. But his disapproval still hurts, since his approval is all they have been living for for so many years. And gaining his recognition still feels way too good, just as his rejection still stings deep down. Eadwulf hates himself for these emotions and he is ashamed. His own anger is rising in response, but he pushes it down to fester in secret. Never show weakness in front of him, never. It’s worse enough that he slipped once already. 

Trent studies him with a patient expression one might give to a slow-witted child. “What did I teach you? What is it that we do?”

Eadwulf stares straight ahead. This lesson he knows by heart. “We do whatever it takes to keep the people of this Empire safe.”

Trent leans forward, eyes narrowing, voice almost a whisper. “What else?”

"The wants of one do not outweigh the wants of the many.”

“So you  _ do  _ remember, you just chose to ignore it.” 

Astrid clears her throat. “Master Ikithon, if I may…”

“You may not.” He cuts her short and then focuses his attention back on Eadwulf. 

“Emotions are a complicated thing, are they not? They make us weak, they cloud our judgment, they make us selfish. None of us are infallible. But I expect better from my associates. And I will not tolerate such weakness again.”

He leans back in his chair again, cold eyes looking up at Eadwulf with an unreadable expression. 

“You will now answer my questions, all of them, and please don’t try to twist the truth. You will tell me everything that happened. And then we shall see. Why did you travel to the Dynasty without directive or permission?” 

“When I learned that Astrid was missing from her mission and that she was declared a lost cause I decided to take it into my own hands to get her out of the Dungeon in Xorhas where I assumed she was held captive.” 

Trent gives him a small nod. “I see. Tell me, how did you know that she was on a mission in Xorhas, given that said mission was a secret and she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone where she was going?”

Eadwulf keeps a straight expression, his voice bare of any emotions. “I took my chances after ruling out all other options.” 

Trent lets out a disappointed sigh and slowly shakes his head. “I told you not to twist the truth.”

He weaves his fingers through the air for a moment, and a second chair appears in the room, next to his desk. 

He gestures towards Astrid and then points at the chair. “Please, take a seat.” His voice is as friendly and polite as if she was an honorable guest and he was offering her a place at his dinner table. 

She follows his order without hesitation. She cannot afford to falter right here and right now. She sits down, back straight, chin high, placing her hands on the armrests where leather straps are already waiting to embrace her wrists. 

Trent looks at Eadwulf again. “I am so very sorry I have to do this, but I cannot have you lie to me about this, it is too important and you disappointed me too much already. So I hope this will help with your memory.”

He reaches into a drawer and places a small device on the table and Eadwulf recognizes it instantly. It is made of silver and shaped like a tuning fork. The surface is adorned with an intricate pattern of arcane runes and at the end of the two prongs sit two residuum crystals, giving off a faint green glow. He has seen it many times before. He knows it is enchanted with a modified version of “Mental Prison”, dealing less actual damage than the original spell while still causing quite a lot of pain as well as creating deeply disturbing mental images that shut out reality around the victim, leaving them blind, deaf and helplessly locked inside a nightmare. Trent slowly slides it over his desk until it rests in front of Eadwulf. His cold eyes look up at him. 

“Please try again. How did you know about the mission?”

Eadwulf closes his eyes for a moment, hates himself for his next words but knows not saying them will make everything even worse. “She told me, before she left.” 

Trent nods with a benevolent smile. “Very good. Now you are being honest with me. Who helped you to free her from the prison?” 

That answer comes easier, they have already agreed that they wouldn’t be able to hide his involvement from Trent anyway. “Bren. I asked him for help because I know he has contacts in high places in the Dynasty after bringing back their Beacons. He agreed to help me for… old times sake.” 

Another nod from Trent. “Who was that contact of his?”

“The Shadowhand, Essek Thelyss.” 

“And how did he assist you? Did he smuggle you into the prison?” His eyebrows are raised ever so slightly now. 

“No. Astrid she…” he hesitates for just a second because saying those next words brings back painful memories “...she died after they tortured her for weeks. The Shadowhand helped us - me and Bren that is - to get into the morgue where they kept her body and we stole it. And I took her to a Cleric. I provided money for a diamond, to bring her back.”

“Interesting. When did you bring her back?”

“The 17th of Brussendar.”

Trent’s eyebrows raise a bit higher, although Eadwulf is quite sure his surprise is an act. “Why did it take you so long to return to me?”

“They hurt her badly when she was imprisoned since she did not break under their interrogation. And coming back from the dead is a difficult and arduous endeavor. It took some time for her to heal. To be strong enough to return to her post here in the Empire.” 

“May that as it be, the fact aside that we have excellent healers here in the capital and she could have recovered in the comfort of her own home. You were not injured if I follow your story? How do you justify staying away from your duties to the Empire for almost two months?” His voice is almost sweet now, and very quiet. His grey eyes fixed on him. 

“There is no justification other than that I did not want to leave her alone. And I am aware that that is not enough reason to abandon my post. I let my emotions take the best of me and that is an unforgivable mistake in our profession. But I am sorry. For what it’s worth. It won’t happen again.” 

Trent looks at him for a long time and Eadwulf braces himself for what comes next. But after a while the old mage simply reaches for the silver instrument, places it back in its drawer. He then makes a gesture towards Astrid and she stands up. The chair vanishes. 

“I forgive you.” he tells Eadwulf, who feels his chest tighten, making it hard to breathe. This is not good. “But you will have to work hard to earn my trust again.”

He slowly rises from his chair and systematically rolls up the wide sleeves of his robe, revealing wrinkly pale arms speckled with liver spots. “I will now have a conversation with Miss Beck alone. You are dismissed.” his next words are also addressed to him, but his eyes wander over to stare directly into Astrid’s and she feels a cold shiver running down her spine. “Don’t wait around outside, we have a lot to discuss.” 

Astrid looks at Eadwulf. Their eyes meet for a moment. She forces her lips into a small smile that is intended to look reassuring, but it doesn’t really work. She gives him a slight nod. “It’s okay Wulf. I’ll see you later.” 

His movements are mechanical when he gives a firm nod to Master Ikithon and then to Astrid. “See you later.” he says with some effort, trying to sound unconcerned and formal. Thenhe turns away to leave the room.

He has only taken a couple of steps away from the door to the study, which closed behind him immediately after he crossed the threshold, when he hears her scream out in pain. He clenches his fists so hard his nails are drawing blood from his palms and keeps walking. 


	3. What a waste of blood and sweat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid returns home to Eadwulf, he takes care of her and they talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about how to continue this story for while, thankfully the last episodes (127+128) gave me a lot to work with in the future. <3 (Don’t worry, no spoilers in this chapter). 
> 
> I decided that I will continue to graze the canon whenever it suits my narrative, but go off the rails of canon with a lot of things, depending on how things play out in the stream. I might eventually abandon canon completely to be able to give my poor traumatized kids the end they deserve. We shall see. 
> 
> The title of this chapter is from the song “Could Have Been Me” by The Struts
> 
> 07/03/2021 I added a tiny little retcon, because I decided to go with the rumors and have Wulf multiclass a little bit. So he now uses a bit of healing magic on Astrid in this chapter. Everything else is still the same.

He feels numb when he steps out into the midday sun of Rexxentrum. His first instinct is to seek out the closest inn and drown himself in cheap alcohol, but that would be foolish. He needs to have his wits about him in case Trent calls on him again or Astrid returns and needs him. 

So instead he runs some errands, stacking up on food and other supplies. He could contact his housekeeper, tell him he is back in the Empire and his prolonged paid vacation is over, but he does not want any sort of company in his home right now. And Elias probably won’t mind another free day to spend time with his grandchildren. 

After he has everything he needs he returns to his house, spending some time nervously pacing around, looking for signs of intruders in the dust that has settled in his absence and then methodically prestidigitationing it away with a flick of his wrist, slowly making his way from room to room. Nobody seems to have disturbed his house in his absence, which is mildly surprising given that he disappeared for two months without a trace. Maybe Trent had connected the dots right away, and simply waited for them to return, sure that they would not dare to leave him for good. Well, he was right. They have returned like the loyal dogs they are.

After he is sure his home is clear and has cleaned away the last of the dust he tries to eat something, but doesn’t have much of an appetite. He is restless, wondering what Astrid is going through right now, what Trent is doing to her. He also thinks about Bren - Caleb - being back together with his friends, smiling and being loved, traveling the world. Free from the burden he and Astrid carry everyday. How long will it take him to stop thinking about the weeks the three of them spend together in the temple? Not too long probably. 

He pushes the plate of half eaten food away from him and begins to pace his home again, trying to find some distraction. There are several letters in his inbox, but he has no patience for dealing with them right now. Instead he tries to read a book and fails, tries to sleep for a while, also without success. The hours trickle by painfully slow. 

When she finally arrives and knocks at his door he is taking out his helplessness and anger on the sandsack in his basement until his knuckles are bruised and bloody. He pats at his face with a towel and then ascends the stairs. 

He recognizes her familiar shape through the translucent window next to his front door and dismantles the wards to let her in, making sure they are back in place when he closes the door behind her. 

When he turns around to take a proper look at her he feels the anger surge again. Her eyes are bloodshot and she is pale as a sheet. There are no visible injuries, but he won’t be fooled so easily. He takes her arm. “Come, you need to sit down.” 

“Stop making a fuss, I’m fine.” she hisses, but when she takes another step towards his living room her legs buckle and he has to catch her. 

He is not sure how she has been able to make it to his doorstep on her own two feet. Pure stubbornness probably. 

He half carries her to his sofa and helps her lie down on it. The fact that she is too weak to protest further sickens him. He notices that she flinches at every movement, every touch. 

He pulls back, shaking with his barely contained rage, his voice merely a whisper. “He is punishing you to punish me.”

She shrugs, reaches out a hand and touches his forearm. It looks like the movement is hurting her, but she is giving her best to hide it. Her voice is soft and painfully hoarse. “It’s just pain Wulf. It will pass. Nerves are a little raw, that’s all.” 

He takes a step back, looking her over, still searching for visible signs of injury but not finding any. Apart from her voice that is, her vocal chords wrecked from screaming. It makes him sick. 

“I did this to you,” he says. “I got you back into this life, into this city, only to endure more suffering.”

She looks sad when she lifts her head to make eye contact. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t. You are not responsible for what he did to me.”

He huffs in frustration then goes to fetch her a cup of water. She gulps it down greedily - her hands slightly shaking - so he gets the whole pitcher and places it on a small table next to the sofa after pouring her another cup. 

“You need to eat something. I stocked up on some food before I got home. Just wait here.” He gets up and leaves the room, grateful for the excuse to be alone with his anger for a little while. And with his guilt. He tries to take deep breaths to calm down, distract himself with the mundane task of preparing a plate for her, but he can’t shake the ire he feels. It is mostly directed at himself. 

When he comes back she is asleep, but stirs when her trained senses pick up on his footsteps. She smiles weakly at him as he places the tray with food on the table. 

She grabs the backrest of the sofa and uses it to pull herself into an upright position. “That smells good.” 

“This first.” he says, pushing a steaming cup of chamomile tea into her hands. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

She wrinkles her nose, but then takes a sip. “It’s too sweet.” she complains. “That’s honey.” he responds. “For your voice.” 

She gives him another disapproving look but then drinks the rest of the tea in silence. He takes it from her hands and places a plate with food into her lap instead. She frowns when she watches him. 

“Let me see your hands.” she demands. 

“It’s nothing.” he pulls his hands away. “Come, eat something.” 

She gives him a look that makes him wince. Reluctantly he sits down next to her on the sofa and holds out his hands for her to inspect. She takes them and turns them over, runs her fingers over his bruised and raw knuckles, and the scabs of blood in his palms where his fingernails drew blood. She sighs. “Wulf… I thought you weren’t doing that anymore.” 

“What does it matter?” he growls, withdrawing his hands. “It’s just pain Astrid. It will pass.”

She doesn’t respond, he beats her with her own weapons there. Instead she turns her attention to her food, wolfing it down at an impressive speed. Right, they skipped breakfast and now it was already evening. She must be famished. 

Eventually she puts the plate aside and leans back on the sofa, one hand on her stomach. She turns her head to meet his eyes, he is still watching her intently. 

“It could have been worse.” she says into the silence. “He will be upset for a while and then it will stop once he has quenched his anger. You know how it goes.” She reaches out to touch his arm again, in an attempt to ground him for her next words. 

“Don’t freak out please but he… he said I should go back to him tomorrow to continue our… conversation.” 

Eadwulf’s fist slams into the coffee table, sending the cutlery flying. The pitcher of water topples and falls to the floor, spilling its content. He doesn’t even notice. 

“I will kill him.” She notices that his tattoos are flashing with faint arcane energy for a second. She leans closer and places her hand on his clenched fist. “Don’t say that. You don’t mean that. Wulf...” she places her other hand on his cheek, searching for his eyes. “Look at me Wulf. It’s going to be fine. I know how much it hurts, but we have to go back to our lives, and our lives are here in the Empire.  _ For _ the Empire. There’s a reason we are doing all of this, and these reasons are greater than an old man abusing his power. One day he will be gone. And we have way better chances to make sure he is not replaced by something even worse when we stay here, on the inside, instead of running away. There is nothing we can do right now than to play along, you know that. He has too much power over us. But he is an old man and one day he will die. And then we can make it better.” 

“If we are still alive. If we haven’t died in some prison cell in a foreign country, left to rot by the country we serve.” he places his hand on her chest where the scar of the stiletto is under her shirt.  _ “Again.  _ And for good this time.” 

“You are the one that insisted on coming back.” she says softly. “Maybe that was a mistake.” he snaps, withdrawing from her touch and standing up. He begins to pace back and forth. 

Astrid sighs. “You’re not making this easier. We have to accept this and move on Wulf. Please. We only returned today. It will get easier again, I promise. He will get bored of it in a couple of days. If we run and leave it all behind and then he dies… Who will take his position? Who will replace him? Someone who is worse? Someone who does not have the best of the Empire in mind? I haven’t worked like a dog these last twenty years to give up now Wulf. Not when I’m closer than I ever was before. What happened in Xhorhas was a setback, but it’s possible to correct it. To do better. FOR FUCKS SAKE Wulf, sit down, you’re driving me insane.” she begins to cough after bellowing out these words, her strained throat not taking it lightly to be irritated further. 

He drops heavily onto the sofa next to her, arms crossed in front of his chest. 

She playfully punches his biceps. “Stop sulking you jerk, and just hold me a bit, will you?”

He turns around to snap at her again, but there is mischief in her tired eyes and he can’t be mad at her right now. 

He takes her into his arms and feels her wince under his touch. But she wraps her arms around him nonetheless and holds tight. Making it so it hurts when he touches her is a far crueler punishment than just torturing him directly, and he is sure Trent is completely aware of that. He reaches one hand up to her throat, very gently touching her skin and begins to whisper a short prayer to his deity. For a moment there is a soft glow under his fingers, and he feels her relax slightly. "You don't have to waste your divine magic on me like that..." she murmurs, and her voice sounds normal again, no hoarseness. "But I want to." he says and pulls her closer.

“What if he simply doesn’t die?” he asks, his chin resting on her hair. “If he lives another ten, twenty, thirty years? It’s not unheard of. Do you want to wait so long, waste all of your life waiting for something that might never happen?”

“Accidents happen.” she absentmindedly murmurs into his chest. 

“You know that’s high treason right, plotting to kill a member of the Assembly?” He is teasing her now, and she relaxes at the change in tone. 

“You already commited treason when you stole my body from a Xorhasian morgue.” she returns. “And together with a foreign spymaster and a runaway asylum inmate of all people. And do I have to remind you my dear Herr Grieve, that you yourself exclaimed ‘I will kill him’ in this very room only moments ago?” 

“Well, I hope my secret is safe with you my little Aster. My life is in your hands now.” he says and kisses the top of her head, before slowly letting go of her and standing up. 

“I got you something.” he says and goes over to his bookshelf where he retrieves a small package, wrapped in paper and string. He comes back and hands it over to her. 

She takes it into her lap and begins to unwrap it. The paper reveals a book, beautifully bound in deep red leather that has undertones of crimson and purple when she holds it into the light. Flipping through it shows that all the pages are empty. They are made of a very fine vellum and are smooth to the touch, of the finest quality. 

She looks up at him. “Wulf that’s…” 

“I know, I know. Yes, you will pay me back the full price, no objection. I just thought you might want to start right away, and since I didn’t know how long you would be in the tower...” 

She pulls him down and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” 

After that he cleans away the plates and dries his carpet with a quick use of magic, before they head upstairs to his bedroom. She still hasn’t been at her own home, and he isn’t asking her why. He knows that she does not want to be alone in an empty house right now, and he feels the same. 

They get ready for bed in silence, undress and slip under the covers. 

He dims the enchanted light on his nightstand, but does not extinguish it completely. She never said anything about it, but he knows she has a hard time sleeping in the dark since her time underground. 

He pulls her close to him, holds her in his arms. The pain seems bearable for her as long as they don’t move too much. “Wulf.” her head is on his shoulder, and she is already slowly drifting into sleep. He strokes her hair and whispers in response. “Yes Aster?”

Her eyes are closed, he wonders if she is even aware of talking or already lost in her dreams. “He told me if I don't get you in check he will make me kill you.” 

His blood turns to ice in his veins. Her breath is slow and steady, she has drifted off completely and he knows she desperately needs to rest. So he just lies there, staring at the ceiling, playing her words over and over in his head until he finally passes out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spellbook Wulf bought for Astrid is the color of the Asters that grow in Blumental. 
> 
> Elias, Eadwulf’s housekeeper, is an elderly half-elf who lives closeby. Now that I have given him a name he is taking more and more shape in my mind, maybe we’ll see more of him at some point.


	4. Where Will You Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short encounter in the temple of the Matron of Ravens. 
> 
> Shoutout to @Solaris_x who was my amazing scene partner in writing this chapter. 
> 
> The title of the chapter is from the song of the same name by Evanescence. Yes, I'm old.

The temple of the Matron of Ravens sits in the The Tangles close to the Vigil's Circle. It is smaller than the Tower of Writ and almost minuscule when compared with a structure like the Chantry of the Dawn. The outer interior is not built to impress or to lure, who comes here and enters the ebony double doors does so on purpose. 

The interior is all black marble, floor, walls, ceiling. Steps echo loudly in here and the light is dim, being swallowed by countless shadows and hidden alcoves. The center is occupied by a large statue of a woman with a white porcelain mask and large black wings. A skylight in the high ceiling is placed in such a way that her white mask is illuminated by the sun and the moon whenever they are in the sky. Everyone who enters her sanctuary is immediately drawn to her face in the darkness, a shining beacon. 

The man had entered the temple half an hour ago, clad in a black cloak with a featureless mask in front of his face, hood drawn over his head. His identity doesn’t matter here, everyone is the same in the face of death. He is kneeling in front of the winged statue, his prayer echoing through the temple in unintelligible whispers.

Eventually the priestess walks over to him and kneels beside him, her black and silver robes rustling on the cold stones as they drape around her. She wears a mask not unlike his own. His prayer fades into silence. “You are troubled.” she says. 

“I am not sure about my purpose,” he replies without taking his eyes away from the white mask above them. “I thought my way was clear before me but I stumbled and I am not sure how to find my feet again. I came here to ask the Matron for help.” 

"You have a purpose." She assures him, knowing that the Raven Queen can see the strings of fate even if she herself can not. Even if he can not. "Have faith." Her voice is soft. “I sense divine magic in you. You have pledged your life to our Matron of Ravens. Be brave and trust in her."

He stares straight ahead at the featureless statue with the huge black wings and swallows. “Someone who is very close to my heart was killed recently. I helped to bring her back. Does that not go against our teachings?” 

She nods, easy to see even with the hood over her face. 

“Death is a necessary part of life. Every death has its purpose, even if we don’t want to see it. And she does not take lightly to those who try to cheat it. If your friend was destined to leave this place, our Matron would not have returned her to you." The priestess tells him, looking at the statue also. "Pray thanks." She coaxes him.

He takes a deep bow in front of the statue, whispering words of gratitude under his breath. Then he turns to face the priestess. "I had to disobey my superiors in order to get my friend back. I broke an oath I made a long time ago. They let me back into their midst, but I feel out of place and they are punishing her for my failures. I'm having doubts about my mission in this life. I hurt a lot of people for the alleged 'greater good' and I… Now that I stepped out of this life for a moment, I am not sure how to go back. I don't know if blindly following these orders really is the right thing to do anymore."

She is quiet as she considers his words. She can hear him questioning himself. She can hear his hesitation. "I can not tell you what is right." she tells him, her hands clasped together tightly in silent prayer. "-But it sounds as if you know what is wrong." He is beginning to see another path. Perhaps one that their Matron has lit for him. But it is not for her to tell him where to place his steps. "You must follow your heart, Sir. Not your orders."

His shoulders sag ever so slightly with the disappointment of not getting an easy answer. "My heart..." he says, stretching the words. "was beaten out of me a long time ago." His sadness is consuming as he is trying to lie to himself and to her. She can feel it from where she kneels and so the Priestess twists towards him, not able to see him under the mask and places her hand over his chest, leaving it there for a moment as she feels him breathe. "No." She tells him firmly, feeling it beat under her fingers before retracting her hand. "It is still there." She knows this to be true. "It led you here, did it not?"

He does not flinch under her touch, does not shift away. They kneel like that in silence for a while, before he speaks again. "It's a cruel life." he says. "Maybe that's exactly the problem, you know? That it is somehow still there? I tried so hard to suffocate it but it is still beating..." a small shiver runs over his body and his voice is suddenly thick with tears. "In my line of work, feelings are an obstacle. An obstruction. Something that clouds our judgement and makes us susceptible. I wish I could..." he looks up, towards the face of the Matron again. "I wish I could just make it stop."

"I am sorry for your hardships." She tells him, though she does not know them. Here in the temple she has seen many men cry. "I do not think-" the Priestess catches herself, turning her face back to the statue to rephrase. "I pray that she does not make you suffer for nothing, Sir." The Matron weaves threads of fate and sometimes things need to happen for others to occur. It is cruel, yes, but necessary and it is not for her to pity him. "You have come to kneel before her, she holds your fate and she will keep you as safe as she is able."

He slowly shakes his head. "This is not about my own safety. I trust that death will find me right as she decides it's time for me to go. I worry about meaning. About making a difference in the world. It's all I've been trying to do ever since I was a young and foolish boy. I was so sure. I was so sure I was on the right path, I never once wavered. But now I did. How can anybody know whether they are doing the right thing?"

"They can not." She assures him. "Nobody can truly know." It is not a comfort but she will not lie to him. "You know what you must do." He came here troubled, she hopes she can ease some of his pain. Her hand reaches upwards, finding the silver pendant around his neck and holding it into the dim light. "She has a path for you."

He raises his hand to touch the small raven's feather on its leather string, running a calloused finger over the fine silver. "It's always about fate, isn't it?" he murmurs. "The thing is I don’t know I believe in fate anymore.” He hears the smile in her voice as she replies. “The interesting thing about fate is, that it doesn’t matter if you believe in it or not.” She is amused because she knows he is trying to lie to himself again. If he truly lost his faith he would not have come to the Matron for comfort. He looks up at her again. "How can you be so sure? Does she speak to you?" There is a plea in his question. 

The Priestess tilts her head. "She communicates with me." Which is not the same as speaking. She returns her hands back to being clasped in prayer. "I am sure because I am here, speaking with you, when you needed me." She had been brought to the temple tonight by fate, so it seemed.

He takes a deep breath and his back straightens a bit. He composes himself, after allowing his feelings to take the best of him. Then he gives a little shrug. His voice is composed now, bare of emotion. "I hope she won't mind if I stay on the right path for the wrong reasons."

"I can not say what she will mind." The Priestess tells him. She has seen him pull himself together but he is not healed. Not today. "Keep praying, Sir. Let your faith be strong." She is not there to comfort him or to advise him. She is simply there. An extension of the Raven Queen to watch over all those who come here.

"I will do that." he says, slowly rising from his kneeling position. He takes a deep bow in front of the depiction of his goddess and then a smaller one aimed at the priestess. "Thank you for your company my lady. And your insights."

"My pleasure, Sir. Be safe." She rises after him but makes no move to leave from the altar. She watches him go until he is swallowed by the darkness, then turns around to leave in the opposite direction. 


	5. The dark that is inside of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid and Wulf pick up the threads of their old life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be aware, this chapter has some very dark elements aka. everyday Volstrucker business. 
> 
> TW: Physical and emotional torture, parents being separated from their children (the children are only mentioned)
> 
> The title of the chapter is from the song “The Dark inside me” by Solitary Experiments

He sits in front of her fireplace, dozing off frequently while she is bent over her dinner table, transcribing another spell into the book he gave her. She’s spending every free minute with the tedious task of replacing her lost spellbook and her hands are constantly stained with expensive ink. 

It was as she had predicted, eventually Trent got bored of hurting her when he realized she would not break, not without damaging her permanently at least. And she is still one of his most valuable assets after all. He tried to extract information from her, to make sure she did not buy herself out of the Kryn prison in exchange for information. And maybe to get incriminating evidence against Eadwulf. But she resisted every attempt of him to penetrate her mind. If anything the month she spent underground prepared her to withstand almost everything, and definitely everything he could throw at her right now. He himself made sure she became resilient against pain and mind games, and she is pretty sure there is pride somewhere beneath his anger. Or maybe she just hopes there is. Better not to think too much about it. 

Their lives returned to normal, even if that word means little for those in their line of business.  They find that there is a new intimacy between them, but also a new sadness. Losing Bren again was painful and it will take them a while to push all those feelings away, hide them in a dark place where they can’t touch them anymore. Where they belong. They can’t afford to get distracted by sentimentalities. 

Finally she puts the quill down for a moment, stroking some hair out of her face and then rubbing at her sore wrist, where faint scars still tell the tale of her imprisonment. He watches her through half closed eyes. He knows her hand hurts more every day from writing, but she keeps going anyway, clenching her teeth. Typical. 

“Come over here.” he says and reaches out a hand towards her. After a moment of hesitation she gets up, walks over and sits down on the rug next to his armchair, placing her tired head in his lap. “You should sleep.” He says. “Don’t lecture me.” she mumbles. He reaches down and takes her wrist, stroking over it and channeling some healing energy into it. She sighs with relief and doesn’t even lecture him about wasting his divine magic this time. He begins to stroke her hair. 

“I have thought about your words Astrid. And you are right. I was foolish for thinking that running from our lives here in the Empire would be a good idea. I let myself get carried away by the memories of our past, by reliving some of them but… It was never meant to last, it can’t. And we have a duty to fulfil. For our country. Keeping its people safe.” 

She hums in agreement and he thinks that she sounds relieved. He never asked her if she remembered telling him about Trent’s words that night, he is pretty sure he knows the answer. 

“We will stay.” he says. “And we will do what we do best. Follow our orders, do our job. And wait. Be prepared to do what it takes to serve the Empire. As long as you are by my side…” He leans forward and kisses the top of her head. “It’s not too bad. We are still loyal to our oath, right?” 

“Right.” she says, huggins his knees with one arm. “I have to finish an interrogation tomorrow. I could use your help. Can you come over to Claykeep at noon?” 

“Sure.” he says. “Our usual roles?” she nods. “You’re better at playing nice than me.” He laughs at that. “I guess I am. I will be there and see what I can do.” “Just like the old days.” she says. “Just like the old days.” he agrees. 

She falls asleep in his lap. He stares into the fire until it burns down before he gently carries her upstairs. 

**********

The woman is tied to a chair, auburn hair hanging in dirty strands around her shoulders and over her face. She is barefoot and only wearing a dirty and torn linen shift that barely reaches past her knees. Sunlight illuminates the room, and a gentle breeze blows through it from the opened windows, carrying the taste of freedom. The trees outside rustle peacefully, their leaves red and yellow. It’s a stark contrast to the prisoner and the small rolling tray with blood crusted tools next to her. Her chest is rising and falling, she is breathing but unconscious or sleeping. 

Astrid is clad all in black, her shirt sporting a high collar that rests tightly around her neck. The Dwendalian Empire Crest is embroidered onto it in crimson and silver thread, an owl in flight, ready to strike its prey, hovering over two ears of rye and a crown, right above her heart. Her hair is combed back on her head, not covering parts of her face like it usually does. Her features are hard and remorseless. She looks like an angel of death, he thinks. 

He is clad in black as well, wearing an embroidered shirt similar to hers. It’s a well rehearsed dance they are going to perform and he knows his part. He closes the door behind him and locks it. The floorboards creak under his boots as he steps closer. Astrid looks at him with an unreadable expression. “I need you to wake her up.” she says. There is blood on her hands. There is blood on the floor. 

He carefully steps around it and stands behind the woman in the chair, placing his hands on her frail shoulders. He speaks a short prayer and dark divine energy flows from his fingers like smoke, running over her skin for a bit before sinking in. She lets out a gasp and her head shoots up, eyes wide. He steps back from her and looks at Astrid. She nods at him. Then her eyes fix on her victim.

“I’m so glad you’re with us again Esther.” her voice sends a shiver down his spine. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” she begins to pace in front of the chair, back and forth, over the creaking, blood stained floorboards. “You and your husband are running a small business, working hard every day but it’s just not going very well. Not enough customers, not enough sales. Money is running low. And then, one blessed day, someone enters your shop asking about your basement. If you use it, if you would rent it out. And you do! It’s the fastest money you ever earned, because the stranger is generous, providing a noble sum in exchange for your basement - and your discretion. Am I getting it right so far?” she stops abruptly and looks at the woman with the auburn hair. “No.” she whimpers, tears streaming down her face. “Please. Please we didn’t know… We didn’t…” 

“Silence.” Astrid hisses and begins to pace again. Her voice is almost bored when she continues to talk. “Weeks went by. The shop was still doing poorly, but it didn’t matter. The rent for your basement was more than enough to live a comfortable life, to give a good education to your kids. You felt so lucky. What did it matter that your basement was used to smuggle Kryn soldiers into the capital of our nation, right?” she gives a humorless little laugh. Stops pacing again. Looks at Esther. Her voice is very sweet now. “Right?”

“You don’t understand.” the woman’s shoulders are shaking from crying, her voice is hoarse. “We didn’t know. We didn’t. We love the Empire. We would never…” 

In a few paces Astrid is right in front of her, wrapping a generous portion of her hair around her fist and janking her head back to stare into her reddened eyes. The ears that are revealed when her hair falls away are delicately pointed. “You didn’t know?” Astrid asks “You never got a little curious? Went down there during the day? Listened at the door? Woke up to footsteps in the night? It’s a little hard to believe my dear.” Her right hand still in her hair she reaches out with her left and retrieves a small tool from the tray without looking. It’s a scalpel and it is already crusted with Esther’s blood. She brings it down slowly, and rests it next to her right eye. “You might think that lying will protect you. That I will let you go if you just stay strong. But let me tell you something my sweet little Esther” the scalpel is drawing a tiny bead of blood now and the woman lets out a pained whimper, trying not to shake against the blade “if you want to survive, the worst thing you can do is lie to me.” 

Tears are running down her face now, mingling with fresh and dried blood on their way down to her chin. Her voice is a barely audible whisper as she desperately tries to keep still under the sharp blade so close to her eye. “I’m not lying.” 

Astrid makes a disapproving sound and lets go of her hair, withdrawing the hand with the scalpel. In a sudden flash of movement she strikes with the back of her right hand, sending Esther’s head flying to the side with a cry of pain, followed by violent sobbing as she tries to fight against the manacles that hold her. The skin around her wrists and ankles is already raw and scabbed from the futile effort. 

She steps behind the woman, pushing Wulf to the side, grabs her hair again and pulls her head as far back as it would go. Esther looks up at her, eyes wide with fear. She places the scalpel against her neck. “How about I just cut your throat you little bitch and get the information I want from your mangled corpse. My friend over here has the magic to do that you know?” The scalpel begins to draw blood. Eadwulf softly places a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you should take a walk.” he says softly. “Take a break. I know you’ve been at it all day.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she snaps at him, but lets go of Esther and throws the scalpel towards the tray, it goes wide and slides across the floor. All three of them watch it slide across the floorboards until it comes to a halt. “Fine.” Astrid grumbles. “Fine.” she elbows Wulf in the chest as she storms past him, leaves the room and slams the door behind her. As soon as the loud sound echoes to the room Esther begins to cry even harder, her whole body shaking under her sobs. 

Eadwulf sighs, then he walks over to the scalpel, picks it up gently and places it back between the other tools. He pushes the rolling tray away, out of Esther’s sight, and then pulls up another chair to sit down in front of her. 

“Hey. Esther is the name, right? Are you in pain?” he cups her cheek with one hand and slowly lifts her face to look at her, but she doesn’t meet his eyes and just keeps sobbing. The way she flinches at his touch tells him enough though. He whispers another prayer and guides divine healing magic through his hands into her body. She relaxes ever so slightly and her crying calms down. 

She looks up at him, blood mixed with tears streaking her face. “My children. Where are my children? Please...”

He gently runs his thumb over her face. “Shhh.” he says. “Don’t worry about them for the moment. The Empire takes good care of its children. They are safe. For now, you should worry about yourself. Here, have some water.” He unkorks the bottle he brought with him and holds it up to her lips. She greedily drinks from it, water running down her chin, until he takes it away again. He puts it away and brushes the hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears. 

She closes her eyes for a moment, almost leaning into his gentle touch. “What about my husband?” she asks, sounding afraid of the answer. 

“What is his name?” he asks, although he already knows. “His name is Cillian.” she sniffles. “Cillian.” he repeats. “That is a nice name. Is he a good father to your children?” 

She nods. “That’s good,” he says. “That’s good.” 

He sits back in his chair a little, taking his hand away from her face, letting out a heavy sigh. “Esther, if you want them to be safe you have to stop lying to my colleague out there. You might have noticed that she is in a bit of a mood today. Have you seen these scars on her face and on her neck? On her hands?” She slowly nods. “They were given to her by the Kryn.” he says and Esther’s eyes grow a little wider. “None of us have a lot of patience when it comes to traitors of the Empire who conspire with the other side, but for her it’s especially personal.” 

Her voice is very small. “I can’t… I just can’t. They will… they will kill him.” 

He leans forward. “You can tell me.” he says. “I will see what I can do for both of you. You know, my own parents were traitors to the empire and were executed for their crimes when I was young. It’s why I chose this profession. I grew up in one of the orphanages of Rexxentrum. And between you and me? You don’t want that for your children. _I_ don’t want that for your children. You seem to be a good mother to them and I am sure your husband is a good father. You made a mistake, but you deserve a second chance, everyone does. Tell me the truth and I will see what I can do for you. But I can’t help you if you keep lying.” 

There is a faint flicker of hope in her eyes, as she is desperately clutching at every straw he would hold out to her. 

“So tell me Esther. Did you know about what happened in your basement?” he asks her very emphatically.” Slowly, ever so slowly, she nods her head. “Alright.” he says. “Start at the beginning and try to remember every detail.”

Half an hour later he leaves the room. Astrid is waiting for him outside, casually leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “And?” she asks as he steps over to her. “She confessed.” he tells her. “They are both guilty. I will see to it that their children are sent to the Odessloe Orphanage and send word to the lawmaster to have their trial scheduled for tomorrow. She also gave me a couple of names, I will put them into the report.” He nods towards the heavy oaken door. “She’s all yours.” She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you Wulf. See you tonight.” 

Astrid walks back into the room. “Well well my sweet Esther, I am so glad you finally found it in you to be honest with us.” he hears her say before the dore clicks shut. His job here is done. He shrugs and leaves the prison to go about his day. 


	6. Through the guilty strings this mask controls its wearer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Astrid and Wulf have picked up the threads of their old life, the past comes back to haunt them once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for episode 110.
> 
> In this chapter I will have a brush with canon, but it’s obviously an AU still. I took most of the conversation from the episode and added a different perspective, cropping some of the more silly bits where the players were just goofing around, to keep a consistent tone. 
> 
> The title is from the song “Masks” by Aviators, a bit on the nose, but hey why not.

They slowly find their footing again, picking up their tasks where they abandoned them and continue their service to the Empire with diligence and pride, just like it’s expected. They don’t talk about loyalty or duty again. After a while things are back to normal, as if there never had been any consideration about fleeing their responsibilities forever. Astrid still can’t sleep in the dark, but Wulf never comments on it, just leaves on a small magical night light whenever she spends the night at his place. She wears her pain behind layers and layers of walls, and he knows how careful she has rebuilt them, so he doesn’t begin to rattle them. It would not be fair. 

A couple of weeks pass until Trent summons them both into his study again. When they stand in front of his desk he gets straight to the point. “Bren has returned to Rexxentrum.” he informs them. “I have invited him and his compatriots to have dinner with me tonight. I’m quite curious about this group he is traveling with and I am sure you are too. And I want you to be there. It will be… a family reunion of sorts.”

He leans forward, watching them both with great attention. “I am aware of the sentimental conflict that might arise from such a meeting.” His eyebrows raise. “I hope that will not be a problem?” he asks in an innocent voice. 

“No.” Astrid says and Wulf nods in confirmation. “We will be happy to attend,” he adds. “Good.” Trent says, a satisfied smile on his face. “You may go.” 

**********

They meet at Astrid’s shortly before they are expected at Trent’s tower. She has combed her hair so that it falls over one side of her face again, wearing a very officious looking suit, subtly embroidered with an owl above her heart (not the full crest of the Empire, but a clear pledge of her allegiance), that comes into a long dress at the bottom. Her makeup is tasteful and simple. Wulf has carefully combed his short dark hair back and put on a well-buttoned velvet tunic, the symbol of the owl engraved in the silver buttons that run down his chest and his elbows. He has used a bit of charcoal to frame his eyes because he knows it looks good on him and that Astrid likes it. They stand in her hallway for a moment in awkward silence, neither of them finding the right words. “You look good.” he says after a moment just as she says “I like what you did with your eyes.” and both laugh nervously for a moment. “Shall we then?” he asks and offers his arm. She links her own arm into his. “We shall.” she says and they walk out the door. 

When they enter the tower and make their way to the dinner room, they can hear very gentle violin and harpsichord music playing from inside. Four small metallic iron chandeliers align the ceiling of the long, hall-like room where a long table sits before them with pale, tan, beige-colored tablecloths, and settings and chairs for seven guests. 

There are windows in this room, and they appear to be somewhat frosted, but they can see beyond them what looks to be a beautiful forest, instead of the familiar citiscape of Rexxentrum. The trees are dense and there is a bit of moonlight coming through the branches.

Beyond the end of this table is a roaring fireplace on the opposite side of the room, and framed in the flickering flames Trent is already awaiting them, inviting them to take their places next to him which they do. He is wearing green and gold robes tonight and seems to be in a good mood. 

A short time later their guests arrive, and he holds out his arms in an inviting gesture. "I'm so very happy that you've accepted my invitation. Please sit. I believe we have much to talk about."

He sits down at the far side of the table, and the blue tiefling immediately takes the seat directly opposite. Astrid sits down to the left of Trent, and Caleb takes the seat next to her, which makes her heart beat a little faster. She does not want anyone to see what a turmoil his appearance truly evokes in her. 

When Eadwulf pulls out the chair to Tren’t right, in order to sit down in his familiar spot, the nimble halfing with yellow dress and the braids suddenly darts past him. “Is this seat taken?” she asks innocently, but doesn’t wait for his response before sitting down. He maintains a neutral expression. "Apparently it is." he says and shoves her into the table a little bit. His gaze flickers over to Astrid for a second before he moves over to the next seat, to pull out the next chair. The tall silent woman in the black dress is suddenly next to him and sits down. “Thank you very much.” 

"Of course." He gently pushes it in the chair towards the table and goes to the third chair, pulls it out and waits for a short moment, in case anyone else wants to elbow past him and into the seat. Looking over to Caleb for a moment he notices an amused sparkle in his eyes, but he isn’t smiling. Astrid next to him looks stiff and maintains a carefully carved neutral expression.

To his surprise the large firbolg is suddenly next to him and pulls the chair out under the table. “For you.” he offers. "Thank you." Wulf says and sits down. Caduceus he thinks, that was his name. 

He finds himself looking into the inhuman eyes of the half-orc, who has taken the chair directly opposite of him. He goes over the list in his head. This should be Fjord. He has carefully memorized their names after he met them briefly in the Sanatorium. 

As everyone takes their seat and has settled Trent, who's leaning back in his high-backed chair that comes up to hook-like hands that are currently reaching over the top of the back, puts his arms up and gives a clap. A wind is rushing through the chamber suddenly and the doors they came through close.

He looks around the table. "The meal will be arriving shortly. In the interim, I am happy to have you as guests in my home."

He stares intently across the table. “My companions for the night, of which you are familiar. Childhood friends of your companion, this Caleb Widogast, or as we've known him, Bren. This is Astrid." He points to her with a nod. "And this is Eadwulf." And he gives a second nod in his direction.

"Now, I must say, I'm quite impressed how you all have come together and done so much in such a short time. What is, if I might inquire, the driving force behind your travels? What is your mutual goal?" 

The halfling in the yellow dress speaks up first. “Boy, that is-- that's a tricky one to start with. We are driven by many forces, but mostly justice. Right?”she looks at the others.

The blue tiefling, Jester, agrees with her, nodding. Caleb, who looks way more composed and shut in than the rest of his friends speaks with a quiet voice. “I think mostly we are just trying to leave the world better than when we found it.”

Trent gives him an approving look. "So we are not too different, then." 

Veth raises her eyebrows. “Oh, you seek to change the world for the better?”

Trent gives her a benevolent smile. "Well, what is the purpose of power if not to use it properly?"

Caleb looks grim. “Much for us to celebrate together at this time. We have achieved peace after so much struggle.” Trent turns towards him, still smiling. "Indeed."

There’s a pause, as he begins to scan across the table, looking at each of his guests with intent. 

Astrid pipes up, "It is a pleasure to meet all of these friends of... Caleb, just as it is good to see you as well, my friend, and I'm happy to get the chance to know those who have kept him companions and safe in the time that we could not. Right, Eadwulf?" Eadwulf nods. "Indeed, I have seen some of you at the sanatorium. Seems fate continues to draw us together. Perhaps the Matron has plans for us together yet, huh?" he smiles, but it looks a little strained. Then he turns around to the one that goes by the name Caduceus, his tall lanky figure and fuzzy pink complexion fascinate him, he has never met a firbolg before, especially one who travels the world as a mercenary. He wonders what his speciality is, he does not appear to be a fighter.

"And you, what are you?" He asks him with a weird half-grin, trying a bit poorly to start a conversation. Caduceus smiles brightly. “Vegetarian, so I hope the meal reflects that.”

Several members of the Mighty Nein begin to laugh at that, Caleb keeps looking grim, Eadwulf’s smile fades. 

Trent raises his voice again, still in their heads. "Well, I guess… Before I get too deep into my particular interests for the night, what questions have you for me?"

Caleb looks at him with a slight frown. “Well, I am curious, now that we have reached some quiet between the two nations, seeing as how central you are to the decision making here in the Empire. What's the next step?”

Trent slightly bows his head. "Well, I do apologize. You have not been around for the full scope of our political engine, but I do not make decisions. I merely guide. Offer suggestions. As to what is next, well… There are many paths. Am I to know… It seems you have fallen with Vess DeRogna, yes?"

“We will be spending some time with her, that is correct.”

"Mmm. And what errands, if I might inquire, has she procured your skills for?"

Jester speaks up from the other end of the table. “You might not. Inquire.” Caduceus looks past Eadwulf and adds “Respectfully, I feel that that information would be considered of a private nature.”

Trent nods. "Of course, of course." he is still smiling. "Is she looking to perhaps drag you to Shattengrod as glorified tomb raiders, huh? No? Hmm, perhaps your familiarity with Xhorhasian society is to aid her in our acquisitions there. Or is she hoping to bring you to some place colder?" he muses, looking around the table. 

Caduceus sounds friendly and patient. “Well, that is a conversation you should have with her.”

Jester shrugs. “I know-- as far as I know, she just wants us to hang out for intimate reasons, you know? We're all very attractive.” Caduceus nods. “That's fair.”

His smile grows a little wider. "Well, wherever it is that you all intend to travel, I hope you do so safely and without issue."

“Without any tissue?” the tiefling asks and the halfling adds “Yeah, we won't need any. We're not sick or anything.”

Trent’s face does give nothing away. "Hmm. A joke, yes." he says, giving a little laugh. 

Astrid wonders if the blue tiefling has more to offer than improper commentary and awkward attempts at humor. She seems to find everything that happens funny, whispering with the Expositor - Beauregard - who sits next to her, without regard for the rest of the table. She is surprised how calm Trent stays faced with her rudeness.

The doors enter and platters begin to hover in on the faint breeze, held aloft on their own, filling up the table before them. Jester begins to clap, but nobody joins her. They begin to eat.

Trent leans in "No questions, then?" Caleb does not take his eyes off him. “So many questions. How's the new crop? How are your children?”

"Well, the children are doing well. Some more than others."

“Not everyone has the stomach for it.” Caleb’s expression is still serious, and there is a general sadness around him. The last time she has seen him he had been happier, Astrid thinks and then quickly brushes the memory aside. 

"Hmm. We lost a… talented prospect not long ago." Trent says. 

The tiefling chimes in again. “How did you lose them?”

Trent looks in her direction. "They were captured in Rosohna."

“That's unfortunate.” she replies, but doesn’t sound very convincing in her sympathy. 

Caleb sounds grim. “Well, the Empire will always yield up more youth. I find hope in the quiet that was achieved at sea. Maybe I'm naive, I'm sure you think so. How wonderful it would be if the two sides could approach each other with that forthrightness always. You said that you make no decisions, you only advise. A thought experiment.” "Mm-hmm?" Trent looks at him expectantly, his fingers crossed. “Pretend that I am King Dwendal.” "Very well." “At this moment, advise me. In your opinion, do we keep this momentum going, or use it as a feint? And dig in harder in all the traditional ways? What is your advice?”

"My advice, oh great King Dwendal, is to use this momentum to rally the populace around the idea of your benevolence and your ability to keep them safe from outside aggression. But to keep a very close eye in all the shaded places, there are so many lives and only so much land."

Caduceus chimes in with genuine amazement in his voice. “How does he do that? That was literally both answers at the same time. He just said yes twice. That was amazing. Wow.”

Caleb looks diagonally down at Eadwulf. “Like a little more perspective, Wulf. How are things going?” He swallows the bite of steak he has been chewing on absentmindedly while listening to their exchange. 

"Well, at the moment it is not as busy. So I am enjoying a little more of a relaxed schedule. You look good." Caleb can’t completely hide the flattered expression that follows this statement. “Oh. Well.” he murmurs awkwardly. “It's a wonder what travel will do, and sun on your back.” Wulf hums in agreement and nods. 

Veth speaks up again. “When the war was a bit hotter than it is now, were you very busy? You, Wulf? Eadwulf?” He looks around the table. "Not any busier than you were, apparently." he replies, turning towards her. “Well, yes, but were you on the front lines?” she asks, not letting the topic slide so easily. 

"I'm not a frontline sort of fighter. I have different skills. More of a scout, if you will." She’s still not satisfied with that answer. “Did you go into enemy lines and go on missions and things? Exciting things?” "Many exciting things." he gives her a patient smile. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Yeah, I'm curious, like Veth.” Caleb says. “I missed a year or two. What have you both been filling your time with?”

Eadwulf looks over towards Astrid, not wanting to do all the talking when she was so much better at it and Astrid narrows her eyes a bit and pulls her head back and he smiles. "We're doing what we do best, Bren. Ensure history walks the right path."

Jester looks at both of them in turn. “Have you been taking up hairstyling? Because Astrid's got a pretty cool one. Was it Eadwulf that did that for you?”

Astrid sighs inwardly, but keeps a straight face, "No, this is… This is my own design."

“Oh, you did that yourself?”

She takes and pours a little bit of wine. "Mm-hmm."

“Wow.”

"Why, do you not like it?"

“No, I love it. I love it.”

"Would you like your hair like it as well?"

“That's okay. It's so original. I wouldn't want to steal your thunder.”

Astrid keeps a friendly face, but inwardly she gets more and more irritated by the erratic behaviour of the blue tiefling. That little bitch. Worst of all she has seen how Caleb has looked at her when they entered and although she does not care whom he fucks in his spare time, this one rubs her the wrong way. 

She leans forward and ignores Jester, "So, Bren. We miss you. We're glad to see that you're safe and doing so well." It’s so silly to talk like this, like they haven’t really talked since he got taken to the sanatorium. But she is determined to keep up the facade, and apparently he is as well. 

He nods. “I have good friends. They're good people.”

Veth chimes in. “Are you trying to invite him back? Is that why we're here? Are you asking him back into the fold?”

"Oh, I'm not doing that, no." Trent leans forward in his seat and goes, "I'm more-- just wanted to express my... pleasure with Bren's--Caleb's advancement as the prodigy I always knew he was. While some students take direct tutelage and study, some are unique in how they best develop through self-discovery, others inspired through hardship. Historically, the most talented mages have indeed walked this path, for the greatest ambitions come from those who have endured the dark and crawled their way back." 

Veth sits up straighter. “So you're apologizing, then?” Beau crosses her arms in front of her chest. “No, it sounds like he's trying to take fucking credit.” Caduceus nods. “Yeah, it didn't sound like an apology to me.”

Trent waits patiently until they are done speaking before he continues. "Of my handful of vigilant reaches, I've had a fondness for you three." And he gestures towards his three students. "Eadwulf and Astrid are skilled in so much. Everything one could seemingly want in disciples and associates. But, and I mean this with all due respect to the both of them, their potential is limited. Unlike you, Bren. You have the eventual makings of an Assembly member yourself. And don't think my eyes are the only ones upon you for this reason. Some out of curiosity, others, a threat. Forgive me, Bren. I could see your gifts, and your faults and limitations. To truly grow, you needed to be broken and left to build yourself. It took longer than we anticipated, but when you were ready, we turned on the light and showed you the door.” He takes something from underneath the table and it drifts over across the table in Caleb’s direction. It lands at the front of his plate, for all of them to see. It’s the symbol of the Arch Heart, and Caleb seems to recognize it, he grows a little pale. His expression is a frozen mask, he obviously needs a moment to stomach this information. “This is why I am not dead.” he sounds bitter, and there is a suppressed anger in his voice.

Trent nods. "Of course. If we wanted you dead, there would have been no escape. And I cannot tell you how proud of you I am. We are. And I know you hate me, Bren. Hate what I've put you through, and I accept those feelings. For it was a hard choice for me to make. What I did, though, I did out of love."

Jester scoffs. 

Caleb stares at him, his arms crossed, his brows drawn together. “To what end? To use me?”

"No, to show you what you are capable of. It was your parents' wish when I told them of the spark that I saw within you. They asked me to do whatever it took to help you realize it, for the glory of your family and for the Empire. I did just that, as much as it hurt to hurt you. It is the greater man who puts the needs of others over himself, Bren. And this nation needs you. We need you." 

Astrid feels sick. So this was his grand plan all along. Wulf and her were still mere mediocre substitutes for his favorite student, even after he failed and broke and went mad and lived on the streets for years, sleeping in the dirt. Even after all the years of loyal servitute, pain, imprisonment and torture, of blood on ther hands and empty voids in the places where their hearts should be. Nightmares and old injuries that wouldn’t heal properly and ache in the wrong weather. No friends, no loving family, no freedom. They had sacrificed everything and it was still not enough. 

But still… Still she can’t project the hatred she feels towards Trent in that moment to Bren, can’t place the blame for this pain on him. He is as much a victim as she is and Trent is trying to plot them against each other, make them fight for their place at his feet like he always did. She won’t have any of it. Not anymore. 

She looks at Caleb, unsure how he will respond, worried about what he might say. Eadwulf has stopped chewing his steak and is intently watching the conversation unfold.

Caleb frowns. “You will have to walk me through the logic of this long con. Because I do loathe you. Deeply.”

"Of course." Trent nods with an understanding expression on his face. Caleb looks confused still. “But you do nothing flagrantly. Everything is very careful.”

"Indeed."

“So how would you hope to use me as a tool?”

"This isn't to use you as a tool, Bren. And there isn't a word I could say that would find your ears with belief. Correct?"

“It's hard to forget the past.”

"Then do not forget it. Use it. If I am to be the focus of your hatred, I accepted that long ago. But what you are now, what you've accomplished, those you've drawn around you, and where you go. That is because of what you've endured.

Not because of a book you read in some hall with other sniveling, rich children. You made yourself. Not myself, not them. But it took that path of pain to accomplish what this is. And you're not the only one of us in the Assembly to have been through similar trauma and been defined by it."

On the other end of the table Caduceus is rolling his eyes and shaking his head, without any attempts to hide his amusement. 

Caleb dead-eye stares Astrid while he keeps talking to Trent, and a shiver runs down her spine as he says: “And you think that my mother and father, our mothers and fathers and children, should serve as grist for the mill in this way?”

She swallows, trying to face the agony in his eyes with a neutral expression. She doesn’t break eye contact when she replies. "Whatever it takes to keep the people of this Empire safe. The wants of one do not outweigh the wants of the many. Right?" She could repeat these words in her sleep. Eadwulf - who knows that she has done that at least once - leans forward and goes, "Our parents made a sacrifice, yes? Like any soldier does in the battlefield."

Caleb looks at him. “If we cannot protect our own, then all of it is a failure. Why did we get into this? Why did we serve with such vigor, if not to protect?”

Trent is serious now. "You see, when talent rises from nothing, then nothing truly is lost. You are far more than where you came from."

Caleb’s eyes flash over to him. “So you've sent me off like a windup clockwork toy to serve the Empire. Am I right? What if the thing to do now is to supplant you, to pull you up like a weed and do better. Are you comfortable with that idea?”

Trent smiles. "Nothing would make me prouder."

Caleb stares at him for a moment. “Let's take it further.” He looks at Eadwulf and then at Astrid. “When he is out of the picture and you and you and I carry the torch forward, will we mangle more children to feed the fields of Wynandir?”

Eadwulf sits back, crosses his arms. Looks at Astrid. She looks at Caleb and says, "Well, if you were to be the bannerman of this tower that we are charged to, then we do as you say. If you want to bring more into this fold, we will.

If you want it to end, that's your command."

She plays into Trent’s words of Caleb being the ultimate prodigy, she has to, to protect herself from his wrath. Caleb studies her. “What about you, though?” "What about me?" she asks softly, wishing she could make him stop talking right now, but all eyes are on her and him and she just looks and waits. 

“When we spoke last, I had the impression that you were being groomed for this seat.” She wants to slap him. She can’t help but to look nervously over towards Trent, and Trent leans in a little bit, his curiosity peaked. She curses inwardly, keeps her voice as soft as possible. "My ambitions and the paths laid before me are not always congruent, Bren." And she looks deadly serious towards him, hoping he gets it now. That he will stop handing out free blades to the man who loves to cut her. Trent leans forward with this grin she knows oh so well, his expression getting slowly more and more confident. He obviously loves this.

"Any man of my position assumes that everyone I keep close is just waiting for me to turn my back. Every person in power knows that feeling, lives by it. It's the rare one that gets to choose. I just hope you don't disappoint me, Bren."

Caleb takes his eyes away from Astrid, not giving her any hint if he has realised what he just did. “That is a lot to absorb. It's been an interesting decade, to be sure. I often feel like a failure and a success within the same hour.”

"Then you are learning." Trent says. 

“I have dreamed of murdering you with my bare hands many nights.” Trent keeps looking at him with a confident grin at that prospect, not seeming surprised in the least. Caleb continues. “So I hope it's not just flowery language you are throwing around the dinner table, Master Ikithon. This place, this country could do better. It could do it with a little less blood. Everyone at this table knows that struggle is inherent to life. But this way is not the only way.” he glances over at Astrid again. She ignores him and keeps looking at Trent, who begins to respond.

"Then, take care of yourself, all of you, for the struggle never stops. And because you don't want bloodshed, doesn't mean every other person that wants what you have doesn't. History and mortal nature, prove this time and time again.

If you are not sometimes the first to cut, you are the first to receive the blade. I've spent my life baring knives. Let's hope you live as long, Caleb Widogast."

Beau and Jester start to whisper to each other again, and Caleb looks in their direction for the first time in a while. “I feel like I have been dominating the conversation.” he says, sounding a bit grateful for the distraction. “What?! No!” Jester protests, taking another bite of her steak. Veth agrees with her. “No, not at all.”

Caleb picks up his fork, letting it hover above his plate without deciding on any food to pick up. Astrid notices that he hasn’t eaten a single bite. “Does anyone else have any questions about me being groomed as the archfiend?“ Several people at the table laugh at that, but Astrid can’t find any humor in his statement.

Fjord turns towards Trent. “How many more beacons do you have?” he asks casually. "What do you mean? You've only seen the one. That is what we have." Fjord nods. “What's the most incredible thing you've learned from studying them?” Trent turns around to look at the half-orc.

"We don't know yet." 

“Yet?” Caduceus, still visibly amused by the entire conversation, speaks up. “Have you ever answered a question directly?” Trent, displaying a hint of amusement himself, smiles at the firbolg. "One question at a time." Caduceus looks delightes. “I knew it. That's great.”

The tension eases a bit, and Astrid takes a large mouthful of wine, hoping that it will calm her nerves a little bit. She exchanges a glance with Eadwulf, now that the attention shifted elsewhere she allows herself that little moment of comfort. He gives her a small nod that carries a silent question.  _ Are you okay?  _ She shrugs. 

Trent keeps talking in the meantime. "We have learned some things, but there is still much more to glean. We have only just begun our research. So who's to say what the most important thing is. What I do know there is much potential to help a lot of good people." Beau shakes her head in disbelief, she does not seem to believe a single word he says, although one of the most infuriating things about Trent is that he always tells the truth. “You mentioned being a tomb raider in Shattengrod. Is that a mission you've sent people on?” "No, but it sounds like the sort of thing that Vess would definitely go for." She raises one of her eyebrows. “Interesting.” “Her interests tend to lie in things around the forgotten history."

Beau keeps studying him, not trying to be especially polite when she interrogates him further. “Have you come across any interesting artifacts? Things she's dug up recently? Anything pre-Calamity, sound familiar? Anything related to the Eyes of Nine?”

He thinks for a short moment. "I have not, but if you've seen such a thing, please do tell me. Vess tends to be very secretive with her business."

“Oh, this has nothing to do with her. This is something we've all been…” she makes a vague hand gesture “...like a side hobby, you know.”

"I do not believe I have heard anything about this artifact or the Eyes of Nine you speak of, but I am curious." He studies her with growing interest, but then his attention is drawn by Fjord, who looks around the room. “The trees outside your windows. What is that supposed to be?” he asks. 

Trent turns towards him with a polite expression, ever the graceful host. "I just wanted to provide a… gentle atmosphere. Do you not like it? I can change it for you.”

Fjord smiles and says “I would love that.” while an excited “Ooh!” is coming from the tiefling at the end of the table. Of course she would enjoy petty things like the view from some magical windows way more than serious discussions about politics. 

"What would you prefer?" Trent asks him. “Coastal view.” is his immediate reply. 

Without him moving or even looking away, all the windows shift into a moonlit oceanside night and with waves just breaking against the sides of the ocean beaches. The ocean stretches out on one side and then it curves around to coast on the other, like they are sitting right on a cliff. 

"Any other parlor tricks you would wish to ask of an archmage of the Cerberus Assembly?" he says with a humorous expression, glancing around the table. 

Veth shakes her head. “Nope, no parlor tricks, but I actually have a question. If you don't mind, Caleb, about your past.” Caleb just looks at her and she shrugs and continues. “You know, thank you so much for sending him to us in your weird psycho way. But we do appreciate making his acquaintance, however dark and creepy the origins were. But you know, you-- I think if my memory serves, he was sort of locked up, locked away for a while in a pla-- in a bad place. He would have stayed there forever, right if someone hadn't freed him?”

Trent gives a nod. "Most likely, yes." “Who freed him?” "Well, who do you think freed him?" He gestures over towards the symbol on the table that he gave to Caleb earlier.

Veth looks confused. “What?” There is a hint of defeat in Caleb’s voice. “What he's saying is that he orchestrated it.”

“So he imprisoned you  _ and _ he freed you.” Jester summarises, with a serious expression for once. 

Caleb does not look at her. “He left me shut off and then he turned the lights back on.”

“Wow.” she says to Trent with a sarcastic undertone. “That's very kind of you. Very generous.” 

"Thank you." he replies as if she just gave him a genuine compliment. 

“Didn't need those 10 years.” Caleb says very quietly, his voice dripping with bitterness before speaking a bit louder. “How is this going?” He holds up his forearm, indicating the faint scars on his skin. 

"Eadwulf." Trent orders and Eadwulf leans back, unbuttons and pulls back his sleeves and shows the clustered maze-like tattoos that are across his forearms. There are similar scars as to the ones that Caleb has, with raised areas of the skin where things are embedded beneath and have healed over. "It's come in quite handy, to be honest.” he says as if it is not a big deal. 

Jester’s mouth hangs open with a mixture of shock and.. something else Astrid can’t place. “Does that hurt?”

"Only a little, at the beginning. But it much more hurts the person on the other side." And he tenses his muscles and as he does, energy is visibly sparking through the maze and arcs up his arms.

“You're like a living magical weapon?” "I like that title.” he says with a smile. "Living magical weapon." He takes a little drink and gives a nod to Caleb.

Caleb looks over at Astrid. “What about you?” "They have come in handy a number of times, yes.” when nobody says anything she looks around the table with a bit of annoyance, not liking to be treated like a mysterious foreign creature at the carnival, rolling up her sleeve. “But do I need to give a presentation as well?" Her arms bear the same tattoos and scars as Eadwulf. When nobody says anything she pulls the sleeve back down. 

Fjord shrugs and changes the topic again, turning his attention back to Trent. “You've talked about Caleb replacing you. Forgive me, I am so forgetful. What's wrong with you? Where are you going?” "Well, nowhere, if he fails." he talks as if it is obvious. “Nowhere? You don't feel ill?” "I take it from the tone of your inquiry that you don't seem to understand the… structure of the Cerberus Assembly."

“I don't. Although I did look up to it when I was younger. I was very curious. I'm sad to report I haven't learned much since then.”

"Membership is only given when a member has stepped down, kicked out or passes away."

“And do you plan to step down, get kicked out or…”

"Hopefully, not any. I like where I am. It has served me well for a very long time.

Caleb joins in. “It's a very generous offer. I take it very seriously, truly. What if I decide to walk away? What if I want to be a sailor instead?”

Trent looks at him. 

"That is your choice."

“Easy as that?”

"Of course. But you won't." and for a moment they just look at each other, eyes locked, Trent with a self satisfied smile, Caleb with a careful and neutral expression. Again there is this hint of defeat in his voice when he finally looks away first. “No. No, I won't be a sailor.” He sighs and his hands wander to his forearms, Astrid knows he wants to scratch them desperately, his composure waning. “This has been very informative. Illuminating. I don't wish to overstay our welcome. We do have business to attend to and preparations to make.”

Trent looks around the table, still smiling, always smiling. Those of them who could muster an appetite have finished their meal by now. He addresses all of them. "Well, regardless, it has been a pleasure to get to see all of you. Thank you for accepting our invitation and for this… quaint bit of conversation."

Jester smiles at him. “Thank you for the delicious steak. It was really one of the best I've ever had.”

"Well, I will let the staff know posthaste. I will take my leave." And he stands up. But before he can leave though, Caduceus looks at him, the amusement gone from his face, instead there is something like concern. 

“May I say, before you go: I think perhaps you are one of the most powerful mages that I've ever had the pleasure to be in the presence of. And for this, I would offer a gift. I think it has been a long time since anyone has pointed out to you that you're a fool.” Trent has stopped smiling at this point, and just listens to him with his brows drawn slightly, not sitting back down but not leaving either. 

“Pain doesn't make people,” the firbolg continues, like he is explaining the most basic concept “it's love that makes people. The pain is inconsequential. It's love that saves them. And you would know that, but you have none around you. You said so yourself, you surround yourself with lies and deceptions. And I wish for you, in the future, to find someone who will mourn you when you are gone.” he gives him a small nod and adds “respectfully.” 

There is no mockery in his voice, he sounds completely genuine. 

“Good night.” Trent says, his smile gone. And then he vanishes and leaves a deafening silence in his wake. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. <3 Kudos and comments cheer me up more than you would believe.
> 
> I’m also always happy to chat about all things CR, find me on twitter or tumblr as @PryingBlackbird


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